Property of The Capitol
by Inner Sanctuary
Summary: I jump to my feet and slam the palms of my hands onto the desk. "You don't own me, Snow! I'm not some piece of property!" "I beg to differ, my dear Johanna. Now please do sit," he hisses quietly, slightly leaning forward. I sink back into my chair, scared, enraged, confused, and defeated.


"JOHANNA! IT'S REAPING DAY! GET OUT OF BED AND GET READY!" My mom shouts from the kitchen just down the hallway. We live in the poorer part of District 7, but we get by. My dad is the one who supports the family on his small income. Mom is a cripple; she can't move her lower legs so she stays home in a wheelchair and takes care of me and my younger brother, Kyran. He's only 7, which grants him immunity from the Games for another 5 years. I, on the other hand, am able to get put into the Hunger Games for another 3 years after this.

I groan and drag myself out of the warmth of my bed. I go to the bathroom and brush my hair through, staring lazily at my reflection in the filthy mirror. I splash some cold water on my face in the hopes of waking up, but it doesn't help. I look over myself in the mirror and shrug; I could go to the Reaping in my pyjamas and not care. Appearances are useless to me. They tell you nothing about a person. But do other people agree with me? No. They label people by how much they're worth, which makes me a nobody. I sometimes wear the same clothes to school for a few days, but it doesn't matter to me. As long as I have enough to quiet the growling of my stomach, nothing bothers me.

I shuffle my feet back to my room and put on the dress that I wore last year. It is overly large, and I enjoy the feeling. It's meant to be much larger than me. My parents always tell me to buy clothes a few sizes larger to last for a few years. I start laughing to myself as I think of the other girls and what they're going to be wearing. Their clothes always seem to be one size too small for them, and it only serves to make them look ridiculous. I put a pair of shorts on underneath the dress and head the the kitchen.

"Here you go, dear," mom says as she wheels over to the table with a small, stale loaf of bread in her lap.

"Thanks, mom." I say as I gently pick the bread up and start nibbling at it.

"Wow, you would have normally inhaled that loaf whole in normal circumstances. What's wrong?" She teases, but I see the concern in her eyes.

"The Reaping. That's what's wrong. I'm going to go wake up Kyran, now. Do you need anything?" I ask, rising and brushing the crumbs off of myself. I leave the nibbled loaf on the table. I'm not hungry.

"No thank you, Jojo." She answers, trying to put on a brave smile for my sake and using my childhood nickname.

I smile as the wonderful memories come flooding back and I walk to Kyran's room. A cupboard is a more appropriate term for it. He likes small spaces, and chose this as his sleeping place. I'm kind of grateful. If he hadn't, I would have to be sleeping on the kitchen floor or somewhere else less, _pleasant._

I knock on the door lightly and push the door open. "Kyran, you have to get ready no-" I pause and start looking around frantically. "MOM!" I shout, voice shrill.

"Yes?" Her worried reply comes.

"HE'S NOT HERE!" I cross the threshold and start tearing the small space apart, looking for anywhere that he could be hiding.

"Boo!" Someone says softly and they pounce onto my back, arms around my neck.

"KYRAN!" I shout, releasing my breath in a relieved _whoosh._

He starts laughing hysterically and shouts, "YOU WERE SO SCARED!"

I pull his arms off from around my neck and he slides to the ground, only to proceed rolling around while laughing. "Get ready. We're leaving soon." I say curtly and walk back to the kitchen calmly, passing by my mother on the way.

"What happened?" She asks, voice full of worry. She's going to give herself a heart attack one of these days with all of the worrying that she does.

"Kyran The-Funny-Man Mason almost gave me an ulcer."

"AGAIN!" He adds in from his room, gasping in air as he laughs.

"That's not a good thing, Kyran. Now I meant it when I said hurry up and get ready. If you aren't ready soon we'll lock you in the house and you'll get arrested by the Peacekeepers when they do their patrols for not being at the Reaping." I threaten cruelly as I plop back into my seat at the table. My bread is still there I tear a large hunk off of it with my teeth.

"NO! I'm going, I'm going!" I hear hurried footsteps and the bathroom door shuts as he goes in to do his business.

"Works every time," I smirk as my mother tries hard to give me a disapproving frown as she fights off fits of laughter. Kyran is just so, well, _gullible_.

"Your father is out trading for a pomegranate. He should be back any second now," mom says, answering my unspoken question.

I nod my understanding and fall silent, thinking. Pomegranates are extremely pricey, but I fell in love with them the first time I ever tasted their sweet juices. This will be the second time I've ever tasted one, and I sit up straight in anticipation. Dad does all that he can to make us happy. Even if that means that he can't always get what he needs. Like a new ax.

Just then dad walks in, a burlap sack in hand.

"Hello! I didn't expect you to see you up this early, Johanna!" He says in his booming voice, adding a chuckle to the end. My dad is a wonderful man; he loves making people laugh and is always thinking of his family. When mom got into her, _accident, _he had been there and carried her to safety when her legs proved to be useless.

"Dad, there's half an hour until the Reaping. Of course I'm up." I answer, finishing off the loaf of bread and getting up to give him a small peck on the cheek.

"Oh, I guess I lost track of time trying to find someone who would trade me a pomegranate for you," he pulls the fruit out of his bag and I smile widely; he never fails to make us happy with the smallest things.

"Thanks, dad. I'm going to go to the Reaping early. I don't want to be late again this year..."

My dad almost flinches as he remembers how I got whipped last year for not being on time and nods. "Good idea. We'll be there as soon as we can, just check in, okay?"

"Okay, whatever you say dad." I head out of the door just as a small breeze blows by. The scent of pine needles reaches my nose and I breathe in heavily and let out a large sigh of satisfaction. Somehow, home just wouldn't be home without the scent of pine nearby.

I begin walking towards the Square where the Reaping is going to be held and begin to space out, letting my feet do all of the work. I know the path by heart after living here all of my life. I don't pay attention to where I'm going and accidentally bump into someone, causing the both of us to fall to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you," I say, trying to get all of the words out before they yelled at me. Living in the poor part of town made people immediately label me as a Pine. Pines are people who are poor, lowly creatures to them. Everyone calls the townpeople Yews, since yew wood is so much harder to come by around here. That, and they can actually afford to feed their children.

"No, it's okay. I should have been looking where I was going." They say, and I look up to see a Yew boy shaking his head in self disappointment. He rises, dusts himself off, and offers me his hand. I just stare at it blankly and get up myself. He just shrugs, pulls his hand back, and says, "I'm Nathaniel."

"I know who you are," I blurt out. It's true; he goes to the same school as I do, and we have several classes together. He's not exactly well liked among the other Yews, but he at least has friends.

"Then I'm going to feel ten times worse asking this: What's your name?"

"I'm Johanna. You might want to hurry off to your friends if you want to keep them. I'm a Pine, after all." I resume walking towards the Square, leaving him behind.

"Well, who said Pines are bad?" He says, hurrying after me and matching my pace. I'm tall for girls my age, but he's by around 3 or maybe 4 inches. His dark hair falls in waves over his head and his curious green eyes flicker around, trying to find something interesting. His gaze locks on my face but I keep staring straight ahead, just wanting to get to the Square already.

"Why are you talking to me?" I ask, annoyed.

"Why not?"

"Because once people are in different groups they don't mix."

"What idiot said that?"

"Aria Cobbler." Aria Cobbler was a member of one of the wealthiest families in the District, meaning that everyone that was anyone was her friend. Basically, not me.

"Then she's an idiot."

I give a snort of laughter and give a small smile. I see Nathaniel smile out of the corner of my eye as well. We round a corner and I see that we're in one of the wealthiest parts of the District; we're close to the Square.

"You look absolutely radiant when you smile. You should do it more often." He comments, he himself blushing after he realizes what he just said aloud.

My cheeks burn and my pace quickens. He notices and matches me stride for stride. We reach the Square and I able to lose him in the crowd. I check in and go to the 15 year old's section. I have become good at fighting my way through large bodies of people lately.

The Square starts to fill up at people start arriving and eventually we begin. I tune out as the Mayor goes through the usual speech that no one cares about and Eldridge Fowler, our District's escort, comes onto the stage.

"Welcome, welcome to the 64th Annual Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor! It is now time to pick one young man and woman to have the honor of representing District 7! Let's have our gentlemen go first!" That Capitol accent only ever serves to give me a very large headache...

He buries his hand in the slips of paper and I faintly hear his fingers tap against the bottom of the glass bowl. He pulls a slip out and walks back to the microphone. "Bartholemew White." He reads out and I hear a mother shout, "NO!" From the bystanders area. An 18 year old boy with a large, bulky frame comes to the stage, hands balled into little white fists as he swings them ever so slightly at his sides. His hardly developed muscles show slightly through the flannel shirt he is wearing, and I swallow. I don't know him, but I feel sorry for him. One year away from safety, and having to watch as it is torn away from you with one slip of paper.

"Any volunteers?" Eldridge asks, his personality far too bubbly for the moment. All of District 7 is silent, and I hear a cricket chirping in the forest. How appropriate. "Well, let's find out who our female tribute is then!" He bounces over to another large glass bowl, this time full of girl names. _15 have my name on them__... _I know I had said that we had gotten by, but I never said that I we hadn't had some difficulties. My having to get tessera was our only option.

He submerges his hand halfway into the bowl and plucks a single slip of paper out of the lot. He makes a show of walking back to the microphone, waving it around and taking slow, small steps. If that's his idea of suspense, then whoever gets picked should probably walk up in slow motion.

He open up the folded piece of paper and reads it aloud. "Johanna Mason!"

* * *

_**You guys already knew about her getting Reaped, so it's no big deal. This will be really long because I wanted to start from the beginning so you'll know about Johanna before and after and have a bit more time to get attached with the characters.**_

_**Well, please do review! Also add to alerts, favorite, and PM me any suggestions. It helps a lot.(:**_

_**Thanks!**_


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